


Forfeit

by virtualpersonal



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bondage, Bottom Dean, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gritty, Kinky, M/M, Sexy Times, Short, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-07
Updated: 2015-04-07
Packaged: 2018-03-21 18:50:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3702343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/virtualpersonal/pseuds/virtualpersonal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to save Dean from hell, Sam must take some drastic measures, or his own life is forfeit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Co-written with Char.
> 
> Story was inspired by this manip by Lightthesparks

Sam was mad. He was mad, and a little drunk and a lot desperate. He was standing at a crossroads, _again_ , in the middle of the night, _again._ His hands were shaking as he placed a wrinkled photo booth picture of himself inside a small metal tin and closed the lid. _Three times the charm_ he thought.

The first time he'd called the cross roads demon to bargain for Dean's soul it had showed up wearing a hooker from a neighboring town. It had been a pretty brief conversation. Sam had said he wanted to bargain, get his brother out of hell. When the cross roads demon had stopped laughing she told Sam he didn't have enough to give. Having Dean in hell, she had told him, was far more entertaining than any of them had ever imagined it would be. There were a lot of demons lined up to have some fun. When the demon disappeared Sam was left standing there, no brother, no deal, his heart torn to pieces. He threw up until there was nothing left in his stomach, climbed in the car and found a cheap motel room to crash in.

Sam tried a different tactic the second time he called the cross roads demon. This time as he was putting his photo in the metal tin he was running over his offerings in his head. He'd thought long and hard about what could sweeten the deal enough to get Dean out. This time - the demon arrived inside a six foot tall, handsome man with short brown hair and full pink lips. When he saw the freckles on the man's nose Sam had to fight hard not to punch him. _Oh yeah_ , Sam thought, _I get the joke_. Sam laid out what he had, he would give up the Colt, his own life in one month, and all they had to do was let Dean go and let Sam see him long enough to know he was okay - confirm that he'd got Dean back in one piece, one hundred per cent Dean. Then after one month, he offered, he would go with them - no fight, do whatever they wanted. Hell, he's do whatever anyone wanted, he just wanted Dean back, needed him back for just a little while. _It wasn't too much to ask was it?_

Apparently, it _was_ too much to ask. The second meeting ended with laughter and the demon telling Sam that they'd just started to get attached to Dean. This time he didn't want to throw up so much as he wanted to just kill himself ... right there. He tried not to go _there_...not to let his mind cook up what his brother must be going through. But it just came. Oh he screamed at the demon before it left, got in a few choice curses, he even hurled a huge rock at it. But ... when the demon blinked out of existence again he was left standing there, alone, no brother, no deal and feeling like an idiot.

The third time he had no plan. So - Sam was standing at the crossroads, again, not feeling like he was _drunk_ enough because he could still think. He held the metal tin a while, his mind blank, wondering why on earth he was even trying again. But really, what else did he have to do? If he wasn't with Dean, his life was about trying to get him back. That was the sum total of his existance at the moment. He buried the box quickly and waited.

She appeared across the street from him, pulling her tight red dress down as she walked towards him, crossing her ankles with each step to give more sway to her hips. "Sammy, Sammy, Sammy," she said, tossing her glossy hair back, then putting her hand on his shoulder as she walked around him. "Back for more so quickly?"

"I want Dean back." He squared his shoulders, swaying a little, "What do I have to do?" He tried to focus his glassy eyes on the demon. "What?" He threw his hands out to the side.

Moving in front of him, plastering her body to his as she hugged his tense shoulders and smiled. "What will you do to get him back? Hmm? Bury Bobby alive? Murder a hundred innocent babies, just to get him back... to save him? Hmmm? Tell me what would you do?" She slid her ruby red lips against his. "What are you offering?"

Sam rolled his head away from her, hands in fists at his sides, jaw clenched. "I will do..." he growled through his teeth, "anything." He moved quickly grabbing the Demon's hair and pulling her into his chest, "anything." He tilted his head, thoughts spinning and whispered, "please?" His heart had been breaking piece by piece, moment by moment since Dean went to hell. No, since Sam couldn't _save_ Dean from going to hell. "Please," he murmured.

She let him suffer for a while, then ran a scarlet fingernail over his lips. "This is your lucky day, lover. I have a deal for you."

Sam took a shuddering breath in, "don't fuck around." He couldn't take another, no...another failure. He didn't want to go home one more night without his brother, without knowing. Sam bit down hard on his bottom lip, eyes burning into the demon's.

"Aright... just business." She dropped her hands off Sam. "We've been... playing with Dean. Apparently we played too hard, because he's 'shut down' and won't play anymore. That makes us... very angry. He's no use to us like that." She sensed Sam's growing anger, and smiled. "Here is the deal. You voluntarily come to hell right now. You have twenty four hours to make your brother feel something, want something, a human desire... to eat, drink, find companionship, or freedom... anything. He has to _ask for it_ , reach for it. You fail, your life is forfeit. You succeed, and we'll forfeit him."

Sam's blood ran cold through his veins, "W w what have you done to him?" It took every ounce of control he had not to try and snap the demon's neck. He squeezed his eyes shut, hand drifting to his forehead, "what did you do? Why?" Because they play games, they don't care, Dean is nothing more than an object. Sam dropped to his knees, the weight of his brother's suffering bearing down on him, _couldn't save you_. "Please..." he whispered again, not even recognizing his own voice.

She turned on her heels. "The correct phrase is 'yes, I'll take the deal.'" Taking a few steps away, she looked over her shoulder at him. "Oh, it won't be offered again. Ever."

Sam blinked away the tears that were prickling his eyes. "Yes," he dropped his head, hands lying open in his lap, "yes, I'll take the deal."

Smiling, she walked back, grabbed him by the arms and lifted him with the strength of a weightlifter. "Let's seal it." Without waiting for permission, she covered his mouth with hers, pushing her tongue inside. "Well, well... now I can say I had my tongue down the throat of the boy king... before he went and did something stupid." Her laughter surrounded them, and then a sinkhole opened under Sam, and she was alone at the crossroad, still smirking.

"He can't hear you." A voice whispered from behind Sam's shoulder, "and really, even if he could, he wouldn't respond."

Sam's heart lurched in his chest and he threw himself against the huge metal door in front of him. He shook the door, pounded on it until his fists were raw, red and torn. "Dean!" he screamed until he couldn't draw anymore breath into his lungs without gasping His head fell forward against the rough metal and his eyes scanned the room once more for a way in, a way through the shadows to his brother. _Dean_. He was so far away. Sam's fingers pressed flat against the door, as he tried to imagine what Dean had been through.

"Oh don't worry, Sammy, we've taken good care of Dean's body - well, for the most part."

Sam tore his eyes from the dimly lit form of his brother and glanced over his shoulder. "Meg..." he spat.

"Well, hello there Sam, we've really got to stop meeting like this haven't we?" She shifted her weight, resting a hand one hip and raking her eyes up and down Sam's body. "You've filled out, Sammy."

Sam's eyes whipped back to the darkness on the other side of the door, his eyes struggling to make out his brother's crouched form against the far wall.

Dean, _he looked like Dean_ and was sitting on a cot. His eyes were wide open in the dim light, lifeless, blinking slowly. "Dean," Sam whispered against the door, "What have you done to him?"

Her laugh hit Sam in the stomach, sending bile to the back of his throat. "We've just been _playing_ with him a little. You know how it is in hell, Sammy..." she trailed a finger down Sam's arm, "a little bit of this, a little bit of that." Leaning on the door she stared through to opening, face mere inches from Sam's. "The problem is, your brother won't play with us anymore, Sammy." She sighed and spoke louder, "will you baby?"

Sam whipped himself away from Meg. "What? You've... what tortured him?" _and worse_ "made him... do ... " Sam's voice jammed somewhere in the middle of his chest next to his thundering heart.

"Ohhh Sammy, we've done whatever we've wanted to him, every moment, every second, _every_ breath since he arrived. " She shook her head slowly. "Should have tried harder to save your big brother, Sammy. I'm disappointed in you."

Something halfway between a sob and his brother's name heaved itself out of Sam's mouth. "Let me.... Dean!" He screamed into window in the door. His head thudded back against the metal. "What... let me... go to him."

"Not... just... yet." She smiled.

Three men sat on one side of the table, and Sam on the other, in the bleak room void of anything else. Each of the men was gaunt, pale, and showed varying signs of torture. They introduced themselves as three wise men who'd outsmarted themselves and ended up in hell, by making deals with demons or going down roads paved with good intentions. They explained that whatever the time frame on earth, here in hell, Dean had been tortured for almost thirty years, and that he'd shut down. Sam's twenty four hours would start the instant the demons took him to Dean, and these men were to give him advice, should he wish to take it. Of course, they too were here under duress and could lead him astray.

The first man started to give his advice. "You will have any tool you want, all you have to do is wish for it, and it will appear. I suggest you think about human drives... food, clothing, shelter, sex, comfort. Give him what he needed on earth... make him recognize his old life. Make him hallucinate... see his earthly surroundings, a scene, a place that was safe. That is what I would wish for... even for a few moments."

Sam's hands were flat on the table, finger's twitching slightly. _Human drives_. What was that for Dean? His car? Some petite blond with low-slung jeans and a beer? He stared straight ahead, not wanting to look at the men in front of him; how shattered they were by their time in hell.

The next man shook his head. "I was a doctor. Everything he said sounds like it should work, but it won't. Give him shock therapy. Ask for machinery that will do that.... wake him up from his trance. It's the only way."

Even in his completely overwhelmed state Sam couldn't see any reason to try anything to save Dean that would hurt him. How would he even do that? The thought of hurting his brother sent cold shivers down his spine, made the bile rise in his throat once more. He kept trying to remind himself to just listen then he could do whatever his heart told him.

The third man spoke in a thin voice. "Mine is a combination of their ideas. Go for a human drive, but not in a mild way. You have to shock him, go for the gut. Don't feed him hamburger, when you can feed him the still beating heart of a woman. Shock has value..." he started to pant, his eyes glazing over, "squeeze the heart, bloody and warm... so nice... so pretty."

 _Shock value..._ Sam was so fucking shocked he couldn't think and he knew that didn't begin to hold a candle to the state his brother must be in.

Sam listened to every word, he just couldn't believe what he was hearing. When he finally pulled his hands back from the table, when the stream of ridiculous words had stopped, there were damp palm prints in front of him on the table.

Some sort of mechanism clanged on the metal door in front of Sam. He waited, fingers tapping impatiently on his thigh for the door to open wide enough for him to fit through. As soon as he could see Dean, he slammed his body against the door pushing through the gap, hissing as he felt something sharp cut through his shirt and into his chest.

He stumbled into the room, took a few steps and slid to his knees by Dean's cot. "Dean?" Maybe Dean would just hear him, just _know_ him, they were brothers after all. "Dean? It's me Sam.... Sammy." He could feel tears prickling in his eyes and his jaw was twitching. Dean was pale, so pale except for the bruises on his skin. The bruises had the sickly sweet color of old fruit, healing slightly but some of them still looked really painful. Dean's eyes were glazed, as though his mind was a million miles away - but surely, he could hear Sam.. he'd been tuned to Sam's voice their whole lives. Even when Sam was a little kid it was always Dean who heard him cry out if he had a nightmare. "Dean? Come on man," he reached up and laid his fingers on his brother's cheek.

Only when Dean's face was forced up did he look into his brother's eyes. _Brother_ He gave an internal snort. He'd fallen for that trick a couple of hundred times already. Not even Sam's voice, his eyes, his touch... none of that would be allowed to reach him. He'd pulled back to a place they couldn't reach him, and he was staying there. His eyes fluttered shut as if he was too tired to keep them open.

Sam shuffled forward on his knees, hands running over the tattered jeans on Dean's thighs. "Hey buddy...come on Dean. It's me, Sammy." There was desperation in his voice. He's never seen Dean so lost inside himself. "C'mon man, open your eyes. Look at me, man. Dean?" He swallowed around the lump in his throat, voice already rough, throat sore from yelling.

Dean opened his eyes, a cold dead feeling spreading inside him. This time they had his brother down. Like the other times, only... a little better. Was he gonna cry? That had worked before... too often. _Come on Sam, gimme those crocodile tears. They can't reach me. Dean don't live here anymore._

Sam's heart was starting to sink. He'd been so sure that Dean would just look at him, so sure that those green eyes would light up at the sound of his little brother's voice and everything would be okay. "Fuck... _Fuck_ , Dean don't do this to me." As soon as the words passed his lips he felt like shit, felt the weight of everything push him a little further down into the cold hard ground. Wiping his eyes roughly, Sam pushed up off the floor and sat beside his brother on the cot.

"So Dean... I made this deal," _I can just talk to him like I always have, he'll come back to me_ "called the cross-roads demon...and she said I just gotta reach you. I mean, that's easy right? Just reach you? You can talk to me... feel something.. you just gotta _feel_ something man. It's not that hard." Desperation was starting to creep into his voice. Sam's eyes drifted around the room and he noticed a large hour glass on the table in the corner. Time was already slipping away from him.

First they played on your heart, then they tried to make you see hope, then they tried to get you angry, shock you, and the cycle would start again. Only it was game over. Dean had pulled the plug, it was the only way to end this. He gave the demon with the face of his brother a flat stare - it couldn't make him feel anything. Where he was now, not even the real Sam could make him feel.

It felt like Sam had been talking for hours, maybe he had, he'd lost track. He'd told Dean every story he could remember, family things, in the last half hour he'd even hauled out the bad memories hoping to provoke Dean into something...anything. He stood up, pacing, he actually checked the floor to see if he was creating a groove. He was running out of things to try, he was going to have to try something else.

"So...do you care Dean?" Sam rubbed his eyes, red, raw and sore. "I ... I'm at the end of my rope here bro. You know - I've got no one... nothing - do you want to know what I was doing before I got down here. Drinking." Sam nodded, eyes wide. "Drinking my _fucking_ ass off Dean. You know why?" He looked over at his brother's vacant gaze. "Because I've got nothing! Do you remember how our Mom burned to death on the ceiling Dean? You were the one who carried me out of that fire." He paced back towards his brother and stopped shifted his weight to his back foot, "And Dad, well, Dad gave himself up for you...not me, Dean, you." He poked his finger in Dean's chest. "And now - you have the nerve to make me stand here and fucking _beg_ you to ... to come back."

Dean swatted Sam's hand away, but gave no other indication he'd heard. All true and all lies. All geared to make him do what _they_ wanted. Come back to them so they could make him scream and shout until he broke his vocal chords, and then some. No thank you, it was much better where he'd gone. This place of nothingness... so dry... so empty... it slowly turned your soul into dust, but it was better... better than over there.

Sam sighed. "Okay, Dean." He sat down beside his brother on the cot and closed his eyes. _I want a woman....the waitress Dean picked up...no.... I want Lisa. I want her - to try to get Dean to come back and live with her and Ben._

Lisa appeared, looked at Sam, and then immediately knelt down near Dean. "Dean, Ben and I need you. He's growing up, he needs a strong male around and he looks up to you. And I need you." She gave a soft laugh, "not a day goes by when I don't think of those three nights. I want them again... come home with me."

Dean remained motionless. Even when she touched his face, he didn't bother to knock her hand away.

Sam's eye wouldn't stop twitching, he rubbed it with his fingers. "Dean, you remember Lisa right? You love Lisa? Don't you ? I mean, you never told me that but...I think you did, do..." _Show him you love him, kiss him, bring him back._ This could work, Dean had spent a lot of time with Lisa and Ben, even after he'd found out Ben wasn't his son ... Dean loved that kid.

She leaned in, covered his mouth with hers. At first she kissed him gently, and then getting no response, she pushed him back onto the mattress. "I love you Dean, I want you to give you my love, my body, my son... a real life, together. Come back to me Dean," she said, straddling him, then kissing him hard, kissing him wildly, moving her mouth back and forth, tossing her hair back... just like they'd been years ago... only there was no response from him, none.

Looking up at Sam, she tried again, moving her mouth harder over Dean's, urging him with words and her bodies movements to respond.

"Get out of here," Sam said to her. He turned to his brother as she disappeared and placed his hand on Dean's cheek. "You're breaking my heart Dean." His fingers drifted up into Dean's hair, smoothing it back from his face. Sam was running out of time. "I don't have a lot of time left man."

Sam got up and started pacing again. He'd tried threatening, cajoling, he'd brought back anonymous woman from bars...Lisa...he'd been so sure Lisa would reach him. He'd run through everyone, Mom, Dad, Bobby... he'd tried appearing to Dean as though he was wounded, as thought he was about to die. Yeah, he felt like _shit_ doing that but there had been no response at all from Dean. He paced back towards his brother, kneeled down on the edge of the bed and reached forward to grab Dean's cheek. The frail cot finally collapsed under their weight and Sam fell forward into Dean. He tried to catch himself, slammed a hand down on Dean's thigh and then his mouth crashed into Dean's. Sam's lips parted in a gasp and he felt the soft wetness of the inside of his brother's mouth. He froze for a second, exhausted, confused, desperate then slowly tried to move off Dean's fragile body without doing any more damage. He pulled back, breathing his brother's air for a few moments, then started to move away.

 _Sam_ Dean chased Sam's mouth, pressing lightly against it. He pushed his tongue out, dipping it for a fraction of a second into his brother's mouth. _Lies. They'd tricked him... or if it was Sam, it was even worse._ Dropping back completely, he turned his face away, staring at the wall, pulling back, pulling inside himself, before they won, before they found the weapon... the key... the right one to his soul.

It had to have been his imagination. Sam withdrew slowly, carefully stepped back off the crumpled cot eyes moving over Dean's face. He fell to his knees in front of his brother, "Dean?" Nothing. He'd imagined it. _Jesus_ how long had he been at this, trying to reach his brother? "Dean...buddy... you gotta help me, I'm..running out of time and ideas, and I can't lose you. I mean," he knew he was rambling, "I can't even stay here _with_ you...you're not here." His voice cracked. He was so tired. Leaning in he laid his head down on Dean's thigh and closed his eyes. "Dean, I'm so tired."

 _It's not Sam._ But what if it was? What if... Would it really unwind everything, just to talk to him? Couldn't he retreat again if they were lying? Dean tried. The words welled up in his throat, the question... what was he doing here? But nothing came out. He'd built his defenses brick by brick, over thirty years, and he couldn't tear them down just like that. His thumb moved and inch, sliding over Sam's mouth. Hot... wet... comforting. Guilt washed over Dean. He closed his eyes.

Sam froze. Dean's thumb was sitting on his lips and his mind was racing. Dean had moved, it wasn't much, but it was something. Maybe Dean thought he was someone else... was confused, thought he was reaching out to someone else maybe Lisa. Sam's brain kicked into gear, through the haze of exhaustion and the craziness of his brother's slight touch sending such hope through his soul. Heart thudding loudly, Sam tested the boundaries, he moved his lips ever so slightly back and forth against the pad of his brother's thumb.

Dean wanted a connection, for a few seconds, even if it was fake. He managed to move his finger again, this time dipping the tip of his thumb between Sam's lips. He pushed a little, felt Sam's tongue. Somewhere, very far away, Dean felt something. A small prick of love, it was tiny, but it started to bleed over his soul.

Scared to move, terrified not to move Sam was completely and utterly stuck. He was trying to understand everything, maybe this was a way to reach Dean...and really, it was comforting in some fucked up way. This minuscule sign that his brother might know that _someone_ was with him was almost fucking beautiful. Sam's heart ached because Dean had no idea how far his little brother had come to try and get him back, and how far he would go. He rubbed his cheek against torn denim, sliding his hand over Dean's thigh and squeezing gently. He waited.

Warm fingers, his brother's, touching his thighs. His cheek, rubbing against him. A small sound came from Dean's injured vocal chords as his leg tensed under Sam's hand. It was only in his mind's eyes, but Dean was seeing Sam move his face a little higher, a little closer... imagining his hot breath on his cock. Could that bring him alive? He didn't know, and he shouldn't care.

Sam squeezed his eyes shut, scarcely able to believe that he had heard a sound from his brother's mouth. He turned his head, chin pressing into the muscle of Dean's thigh, feeling it tense beneath his touch. His eyes drifted down and Sam couldn't believe he was seeing a slight bulge growing in the front of Dean's pants. It had to be some sort of crazy, fucked up reaction to human touch; maybe an over-reaction because of the abuse he'd been through. _Jesus, Dean, I'm so sorry I couldn't stop this._

"Dean?" His voice was almost a whisper. He slid his palm slowly up his brother's leg, fingers gentle when they hit flesh. He slid one finger into one of the rips in his brother's jeans, sliding the pad of his finger back and forth over a fading bruise. "Hey...Dean...you in there?"

A puff of air left Dean's mouth as he tensed even more. He moved slightly, looked down. A head of lush brown hair, on his lap, so close. He felt his cock stir for Sam, even when a hundred others before him had tried and failed. Managing to slide his hand, he covered up. This was hell... waiting for something to happen and knowing nothing would... nothing changed... hell was constant if anything.

Sam was holding his breath, he didn't even realize until he suddenly had to gasp for a lung full of air. He glanced up at Dean's face, it was drawn, tired, beaten; Sam didn't know what the fuck to do anymore. He lurched upwards, grabbing his brother in his arms and pulling him down across his chest. It was all elbows and knees and at some point Sam's head connected hard with Dean's elbow but he had him and fuck, even if Dean didn't get anything out of it - Sam felt better. Well, he felt better for a few moments, then he felt like an asshole for yanking his brother around so violently when he'd obviously been abused in almost every way possible since he'd been sent to hell. The tears finally came in earnest and he nuzzled into Dean's dirty, matted hair, "I'm so sorry, Dean, I ... I wasn't trying to hurt you." He pressed a trail of kisses down his brother's cheek and rocked him back and forth slowly.

The sharp pains combined with Sam's unexpected kisses drew a hiss out of Dean. The back and forth rocking motion made him think of sex... sex... sex with Sam. No that wasn't right. But he moved his face anyway, moved it so Sam's mouth was over his lips, not over his cheek. He took a taste, just a small one. It had to be him, his brother. Had to be.

 _Oh God, Dean._ Sam's lips burned under the slight touch of his brother's lips and his arms tightened as though he could somehow squeeze Dean out of his self-imposed prison. But Dean remained locked inside, limp in Sam's arms; Sam's hope faded as quickly as it had blossomed. _Go for a human drive, but not in a mild way. You have to shock him, go for the gut_ one his advisers had said. Maybe that was it - maybe the shock of being pulled down had finally reached his brother if only for a few seconds. Or maybe, _he didn't even want to think it_ the kisses had pushed Dean to do something. He probably wondered what the hell was _wrong_ with Sam. Okay - so these were unusual circumstances and it's not like he and Dean never touched. And, fuck, if being in hell to get your brother back doesn't make you want a little physical comfort then Sam didn't know what would.

He sighed and rested his cheek against Dean's, "I'm starting to talk to myself in my head, Dean. You know how you say I talk too much sometimes when I'm tired? I'm doing that. Only in my own head." He tightened his arms again, inhaling the vaguely familiar and startling unfamiliar scent of his brother. "Okay, Dean...we're gonna try something different."

Sam shifted his arms around Dean, pushing him back a little so he could see into those vacant eyes. Even the beautiful green seemed to have faded - it was tugging at Sam's heart. Cupping the back of Dean's neck, Sam twisted his brother's head so their lips were aligned once more. _It wasn't that weird, to kiss Dean, it was natural, and fuck who'd be counting sins down here?_ Sam took a deep breath and pressed his lips to his brother's, opened his mouth slightly and moved his lips gently back and forth. He pulled back and watched Dean's eyes.

Tricks, so many tricks. How could this be his brother? Sam would never, not in a million years kiss him like this. But everything else was right. The way he sounded, the way he felt, the words he used, the worried look he was giving him. All those others, the women he'd brought... they'd felt real too, but he didn't give a crap about them, not after 30 years. Dean lips parted, but instead of finding the warmth and comfort he needed, it was pulled away. Resentment flashed in his eyes, then died a quick death. Still playing with him. Always playing.

Something inside Sam snapped. The look in dean's eyes, yeah it was fleeting - but it was bitter...not loving - Dean still had no idea who he was....couldn't even recognize his little brother. Because Sam pulled away? _Christ_. Sam grabbed Dean's upper arms, fingers digging hard into his muscles and crushed his mouth against his brother's, eyes squeezed closed Sam summoned up all the times Dean had been there for him, held him, taken care of him. He sucked his brother's bottom lip into his mouth, then thrust his tongue over it, forcing his way into Dean's mouth. The thing was, it wasn't bad, it felt good to Sam - good and right, and he was almost glad Dean wasn't actually responding because in his current state - Sam couldn't even imagine how either of them would react. But, there, he was doing it -he was kissing Dean, trying to find him. He moaned against his brother's mouth, tongue slipping in and out forcefully at first, then gently.

Mouth to mouth... it wasn't a tease. Dean was vaguely aware of that, aware his brother was trying to reach him. He wanted it, wanted to connect with Sam, even if it was a lie and they got him again; he wanted to risk it. But the walls he'd so carefully built stood firm. He couldn't get past them, not even to enjoy the kiss.

His brother's kisses were in turn rough, and soft, as if Sam was trying to be gentle, then angered at the lack of reaction, and then sliding back down into gentleness. The gentle lapping got no responses from Dean, he was calloused all over, hardened, immune. But each time Sam's fingers bit more strongly into his shoulders, each time he thrust his tongue inside his mouth with no hint of gentleness, Dean tried to meet him half way. He tried and tried, and eventually was able to tangle his tongue with Sam's. The instant he managed it, Sam went back to being gentle again, and Dean shut down. There was no way they would reach each other... none, not when Sam was made of heaven, and Dean of hell.

Sam was getting frustrated. Every time it felt like he was reaching Dean he would lose him again it was like playing some sick game of chess. "Fuck," he yelled. He shook his brother hard, watching Dean's head roll back and forth on his shoulders... "Jesus Dean! Feel something," Sam couldn't help yelling, it had been building deep inside him for the past few hours. It was desperation and need and the ever present ticking of the countdown running in his mind. "I fucking _know_ you're in there..." he crashed his mouth into his brother's, tasting blood and bit down hard on Dean's bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth - it _had_ to hurt. One hand flew to the back of Dean's neck hand pulling hard on the silky smooth hair there. "Talk to me... damnit," he moaned into Dean's swollen and bleeding mouth. "Say something...you asshole." An angry sob escaped Sam's mouth and he gasped against his brother's lips.

They'd beat him. They'd cut him. They'd shocked him, drowned him, and pulverized him. Dean remembered it in increments like camera flashes going off. Now he hurt... Sam hurt him, but it hurt so good. It made him want to fight, to reach, to find. Sam's mouth bruising his, making him bleed, making him remember what it was like to be hot for someone. To have your heart beat faster. He was shaken so hard, his head would have crashed into the wall, but Sam's hand was there... hurting, and stopping pain. His tongue was inside his mouth, cutting off his breath, but making him breathe. _More, more, Sam..._

'Asshole', the word echoed in his brain. "M... more. S.. am." He wasn't sure if the words got through, if they were audible. He'd pushed them out, done his best. But he was afraid, afraid Sam would hug him now, just hold him. It wasn't what he needed. It wouldn't help him, not now.

Sam almost leapt out of his skin when Dean spoke, he pulled back, shuddering. He was shocked to feel that his body was responding to the way he was touching Dean, his body was vibrating, desire washed over him in waves and he felt alternately confused and turned on...and Dean's voice, no matter how gruff, how far away. "More...?" Sam muttered. What the hell was going on? He leaned back into his brother and pressed his lips to Dean's mouth softly.... nothing. Sam waited, the wheels turning in his mind. Moving with lightening speed, he grabbed Dean's wrist and moved it behind his back tugging it upwards, and slammed his mouth into Dean's, tongue thrusting past swollen lips. He could still taste the faint copper of Dean's blood, and Sam was unrelenting. He pushed Dean's arm up between his shoulder blade knowing exactly how far he could push before damaging the joint. "Dean..." he growled into his brother's mouth, their teeth clattered together and Sam hissed in a breath as his bottom lip was pinched between their bites.

"Mphmm." Blood, he tasted blood. Wasn't sure whose it was, his or Sam's. The sharp pain in shoulder made everything lucid for a moment. He could see, really see Sam. Grabbing a handful of his shirt, Dean kept him close, tugging, forcing Sam the way Sam was forcing him. He pulled away swallowed, tried to speak. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but no words came. He needed... needed Sam to keep going, to be angry... to push him. "Not my brother... not.." he pushed weakly, eyes locked with Sam's.

Hurt welled up in Sam, sending cold fire through his veins. "Don't _you_ say that..." He grabbed a handful of Dean's hair and yanked his head backwards, leaning in and biting hard on Dean's Adam's apple, he sucked it into his mouth drawing up the blood to the surface, he sucked hard and relentlessly until the skin was discolored and bruising. Then he shoved Dean back, pushing him off his lap and onto his back. He was panting, gasping for breath, "you son-of-a-bitch, I came down..." he was shaking he was so mad..." I came down here - I've offered to give up my soul and you don't believe me?" Leaning down over Dean he tore the rest of his brother's shirt off and leaned down hard on his chest. "I'm right here you asshole..." Grabbing Dean's shoulder he slammed his brother against the floor again and leaned in to bite his way down Dean's broad chest, he tongued the open wounds his found, biting at the ragged edges of skin, his tears mingling with fresh blood and stale sweat.

It was so hard, always so hard getting Sam mad. But once you did, boy... Each painful new cut, each bite, each curse got through to Dean like nothing else had. Warmth flooded through his ice cold body, and need. Need for his brother... dirty, ugly... whatever, he needed Sam. He wrapped his arms around Sam, groaning and arching up to meet his bite. "You're here... show me... show me, Sammy," he ground out, somehow twisting and crashing his mouth into Sam's. "Show me," he said again, opening his mouth, sucking Sam's tongue inside, his fingers digging into Sam's chest and side, begging him. "Make me... feel."

Sam was trembling with anger, furious at what it had taken to get Dean to this point. He tore himself away from his brother, panting, wiping his mouth. He was starting to understand what they'd done to him, but even with that realization came an overwhelming hesitance to even try to imagine the foul things that had brought Dean to this...to wanting to be hurt.. needing to be dragged kicking and screaming from his own body. Closing his eyes, Sam focused, _rope_ , he thought for a moment, _blind fold_. He couldn't help being a little surprised when he opened his eyes and the items were there.

Lurching to his feet, Sam grabbed Dean by his arm and dragged him up, twisting and shoving him down on the broken cot. He snatched up the rope and wrapped it a few times around Dean's wrists, tying them together in front of is body. He pulled the rope tight, but not tight enough to cut off his brother's circulation. Kneeling down he tugged Dean forward and wrapped the blind fold around his eyes. "Now...I get to decide what happens," he whispered in Dean's ear. "You want to be made to feel? Fuck Dean, I'll convince you... I'll get you back."

Dean was skeptical. Sam was angry, but could he keep it up? Could he bring himself to be like _them?_ Then his wrists were bound and he looked at his brother, like he didn't know him. The blindfold... were they talking sex or torture here? So many boundaries were blurred now. Brother...love...lover. Bad pain...good pain... alive.

He pushed Dean back against the wall and stood up, crossed his arms and pulled his t-shirt up over his chest. "Can you hear me moving around, Dean? Does it worry you that you don't have _any_ idea what I'm going to do?" He leaned down and breathed across Dean's lips then slammed his mouth against his brother's. "Don't you move...not an inch..." Sam bit Dean's bottom lip hard, tugging on it, then rubbed his cheek roughly over Dean's. "I'm gonna make you ask for it...gonna get you back...."

Dean couldn't see anymore, not at all with the blind over him. Sometimes he'd been blinded by blood, but this was different. He stood, waiting... his heart stuttering... anticipating, but having no fucking clue what Sam was going to do. He listened for him, swallowing as Sam whispered in his ear, making it sound like a threat. He wasn't completely afraid, not until Sam bit him. "Fu...." he tried to pull his head back and Sam was scraping his cheek. He shivered and stayed still for a moment, his heart banging inside his ears, and then he moved. Tentatively, he put his Bound wrists out. Was he alone again? Sam hadn't given up that quickly, had he? He tried to summon up the will to say his name, and again, nothing came. He took a step, half expecting to meet air, half expecting a blow.

Sam paced back and forth for a few minutes, watching Dean, he waited until Dean raised his hands then he moved in quickly. He grabbed the rope and yanked Dean forward a few steps. He spun his brother and threw an arm around his neck pulling him back against his bare chest. "So - you think you get to just check out?" He tightened his arm around Dean's neck, free hand sliding around to lay flat on Dean's chest. "Do you know what I did, Dean? Do you even know what I've been through?" He growled and grabbed Dean's nipple, pinching it hard and pulling it away from his chest. "You want to know how many fuckin' nights I drank so I could stop thinking about this? Wondering what was happening to you?" He twisted his brother nipple hard, then let go and grabbed his wrist tightening the choke hold. "I wanted to check out too Dean, but I didn’t, I had to fight." He could hear Dean gasping for breath. "So Why should you get to check out on me?" He let go of Dean abruptly and moved away, circling him where he stood in the middle of the room, watching his brother for any sign of change.

With the pain came focus. Every word Sam spoke got through. Sam's suffering... his pain, different, but the same. Dean's head jerked back as he was pinched hard, and then made to fight for his breath. Then there was the nothingness again. He was alone.

Heart banging against his chest, Dean turned... kept turning... hands soothing his burning nipple. His chest heaved as he gave voice to his needs. "Lick... lick," he touched himself again, searching for Sam. "Again... then lick... better." When no one answered, he started to wonder if he really was alone again. Was this all happening in his head. Bringing his bound hands up, he started to push at the blindfold.

Sam slapped Dean's hand away from the blindfold with a force that even surprised him. He was struggling with himself as much as with his brother. How could he so naturally treat Dean like this? And that kiss... Sam's body was reacting, he was turned on by his own brother...well, the idea of his brother...not this shell in front of him. But that voice, it sounded like Dean...and he was actually almost interacting with Sam.

The intake of Dean's breath was audible as he was pushed hard enough that he staggered. He wasn't alone, but Sam was playing with him. Why. Why didn't he just either give him what he needed or get the fuck out here, why? He wiped the sweat off his face using his upper arm, but there was nothing left of his shirt to absorb it. He hadn't thought of clothes in a long time. Even without touching himself, he could tell there were scraps of clothing covering him, but most of him was bare. Why should that make him feel more vulnerable?

Sam moved silently around his brother then leaned down and snagged Dean's other nipple with his teeth, he rolled it back and forth slowly, fingers ghosting over his brother's ribs. Biting down hard he tugged and then let go, pressing his tongue flat against Dean's nipple, lapping slowly at first, fingers pressing hard into Dean's hips. He alternated sucking, biting, rolling and licking until he had to step back and palm the front of his own jeans. He groaned, "fuck you, Dean," _for making me do this._

"Ahhhh," the sound was pulled from the back of Dean's throat in response the pain, but he moaned too... gentle fingers touched him, a counterpoint to the pinch. Another sharp pain, teeth scraping against him, then Sam was licking him, and it was just how Dean thought it would be. Warm, wet, comforting. For just an instant, his hips were dragged against Sam's. Dean swayed forward, wanting Sam's mouth on his, but Sam was gone again.

His legs gave out, he dropped to his knees, hands held out. "Go ahead," he choked on a sob. "Fuck me, Sam." His breathing was so damned erratic, his stomach clenching with nerves and need, and fear... fear of being left alone.

Sam's heart thundered in his chest, and he felt like he was either going to throw up or come. His body was a mess of hypocrisy. He wanted Dean, he wanted him back in his life, he hated every moment of what he was being _made_ to do, he hated that he was so turned on by it, by the idea of his brother actually wanting him. "I'm not giving you anything you want, Dean." _You've got to beg._ Sam dropped to his knees in front of Dean and pushed his head up through the loop made by Dean's bound arms, he leaned back letting Dean know he was trapped, arms around Sam's neck.

If Sam wasn't going to give him what he wanted, why had he forced himself into his arms? Dean whimpered, tried to pull away, but his bound hands came up against Sam's neck. He tried to lurch forward, to touch any part of Sam with his lips, but his brother had other ideas, and letting him stay on his knees was not one of them.

Sam pushed up from the floor, powering up with his strong thighs, dragging Dean up by his tied wrists. "You stand up and you listen to me, Dean." Sam leaned into Dean and grabbed his ass, his fingers curled into his brother's firm muscles and he ground his hip hard into Dean's crotch. "You are gonna come back to me, but you gotta earn it - you gotta work for it bro." He growled deep in his chest and slid his hand down his brother's body grabbing his hard cock through the front of his tattered jeans. He squeezed his huge hand so tight, and crashed his lips into Dean's once more. He kissed Dean until he was sure they would both black out from lack of oxygen then he pulled back slightly, moaned, and allowed himself one brief moment of gentleness. As his lips parted from his brother's he ran his tongue softly along his brother's bottom lip.

Fire replaced ice in Dean's veins, one inch at a time as Sam ground his hip against Dean's erection. A "yes..." left Dean's lips as he tried to rock against Sam, rocking into his fist when that took over, his face held in place as his brother started to kiss him. It was brutal, and effective. Unable to breath, near what had to be death, Dean found a clarity he hadn't had in years. '"Yes, yes, more," he begged, moaning as Sam's tongue painted his lower lip.

Afraid Sam was leaving him again, he moves his hips forward, against Sam's. "Again. Jack me off.. please... need to feel," he tried to draw Sam closer, making a frustrated sound when he didn't cooperate. He plastered himself against Sam, let him feel how hard it was. "Hurts... need help.... need you. Goddamit... you're just like them... just like them..." he said bitterly.

Sam's jaw was clenched so tight he thought his teeth were going to crack. He pushed Dean back from him, just enough that his brother's could get no friction, no relief. "Dean, who am I?" he growled out the question close to his brother's ear. He jammed his knee up hard into his brother's groin. "You _tell_ me who I _am!!"_

"Sssam! he said as white hot heat blinded him and he started to double over but Sam's body was in the way. His cock throbbed with pain and need. He rested his chin on Sam's shoulder. "You having fun? Fuck you... f...fuck you Sammy." Unable to both fight the new firestorms of emotion roiling through him _and_ stand, Dean went limp, allowing Sam to carry all of his weight.

Squeezing his eyes shut Sam tried hard to stay focused on his brother. He leaned in to Dean, pressing his lips against his ear, "Dean, you're right, it's me Sammy. It's _your_ Sammy." He pressed a soft kiss to Dean's ear slipping his arms around his brother's chest and holding him up. Fresh tears were falling down his cheeks. Stumbling backwards a couple of steps Sam fell backwards onto the cot, pulling his brother with him. As he struggled under Dean's weight Sam's eyes flicked to the hourglass on the table in the corner of the room. _Time was running out_

"Hey..." he reached behind him and untied the rope on Dean's hands tugging it off roughly. "Hey, Dean..." ducking his head down he pressed his lips against Dean's, licking his way into his brother's warm mouth. When he pulled back he whispered "What do you want, Dean? huh? You must want something, from me..." He raised a shaking hand to the blindfold and pushed it up and off Dean's eyes.

"Hey..." he leaned forward again and kissed each of Dean's eyes. Cradling Dean to his chest, he couldn't help rocking him, just like Dean used to do when Sam was a kid, terrified in the middle of the night after a brutal nightmare. "Open your eyes, Dean," he pressed an open mouthed kiss to the corner of his brother's mouth. The tears were streaming down his face and he closed his eyes and grabbed Dean tighter against him. "It's okay, Dean, I love you...it's okay if you can't come back to me, I still love you." He hiked Dean up higher on his chest and buried his face in his brother's neck.

He'd wanted to be angry, was angry... didn't know why, didn't understand. The kisses he understood, the pulling back.. he didn't. Dean started to shake. His hand went to Sam's face, he felt his tears, wet, slick... wrong. "I want..." He licked his lips, "I want you to..." He saw Meg, and jerked back, his breath hitching at the torture that was sure to follow. "I need..." He jerked again, eyes widening as Alistair appeared behind Meg. "No.... did you bring them... Sammy?" He started to pull back, to scramble away.

Sam started shaking his head slowly from side to side, "No, Dean, just me - I came alone to get you - they were already here." He held out a trembling hand to his brother. "Come back to me, Dean. Just you and me, like always... only more...come back." His eyes sought out his brother's and he wiped his face with his free hand. "Come on Dean...need you bro."

Dean looked at the others, then leaned in, speaking in Sam's ear, shaking like a leaf in his strong arms. "I... I belong in hell, Sammy. Because..." he gasped for air, "because I want you to fuck me... I belong here. You should leave... go home..." Wet tears slipped down his own cheeks now. "Let me go... let me go back, can't touch me there... let me go Sam... tell me I can go back."

Sam wrapped his arms around his brother again, a strange stillness falling over him. "No, Dean, I can't... can't let you go..." Sam tilted his head, kissing the hot tears away from Dean's cheek. His finger caught Dean's chin and he moved his head so that their eyes could meet. "Can't let you go Dean, I'll stay here with you if you want - but I can't," he stifled a small sob, "I can't let you go, I want you..." leaning in he pressed his lips against Dean's, hard and long, showing his brother everything he had; every drop of love and longing and need went into that kiss, his tongue slid into Dean's mouth, running over his teeth, teasing the roof of his mouth. When he pulled back he smiled, "S'okay Dean," he smoothed his hair and rocked his brother, "Not gonna leave you, want you too."

He didn't know whether to believe Sam. How could he want _this_? He hadn't been tortured out of his mind. He wasn't the one that had years on end to hang onto one person, one image in his mind, to fall in love in a whole new way, to need something he had only mentally toyed with when he was on earth. Thoughts he could resist when he hadn't been twisted into something, someone different. Dean should push him away, he should... but he was selfish, he wanted every second he could get.

Giving a small cry, he lurched against Sam, closing his own arms around him, kissing him desperately with all his feelings suddenly breaking through every wall he'd created. His tongue swept inside his brother's mouth, tangling with Sam's, tasting him... tasting his life before, all the things that hell was not. He ground his hips against Sam, pressing his still aroused cock into his him. "I want you... need you. Just you Sam," he whispered roughly.

The metal doors scraped open and Meg walked in. Dean blinked, he'd seen her before, but this time she seemed more... real, substantial. His fingers dug into his brother, like he was his lifeline.

"Bondage and incest in hell, how cliché," she purred, walking up to them. "You may go back," she told Sam. "He chose to stay."

"No," Sam started shaking his head, that can't be what Dean said and it certainly wasn't what Dean wanted....

"No? You want to stay? It can be arranged. Easily." The point of the whole deal had been to have Sam fail, and then to be able to keep him. Her eyes bled black at the thought that they'd been unsuccessful, but she could at least make him hurt, both of them, all over again. "Step away from our _guest_."

Sam was starting to realize what was going on..."No- you _can't_ do this. You said that if I got him - if Dean responded to me... we could leave together..." his eyes locked with Dean's as he stumbled a couple of steps away from Meg, dragging his older brother with him. Sam's hands slid off Dean's back and cupped his cheeks, "look at me, Dean, listen to me. No matter what that _bitch_ says, no matter what _you_ hear you know me. Dean? I came here to get you, I love you, you wanted to come back with me didn't you?" His voice cracked, his heart starting to peel away from his soul one layer at a time. He leaned his forehead against Dean's, "you didn't want to stay here...." his head was rolling back and forth slowly.

"Yes Dean, tell him you want to go with him, that you want him to fuck you, that you'll drag his soul right back to hell with yours. Go on and tell him," she gave a malicious smile. "That would work out great for us. Do it."

Gaze locked with his brother's, Dean struggled. He wanted to go with Sam, yeah. He wanted Sam so much, so fucking much... it was the only way he'd feel human again, instinctively, he knew that. But he also didn't want Sam doing what he didn't want, couldn't stomach... Hadn't Sam cursed him out earlier for forcing him to be violent, to touch him like Dean needed. He pressed his cheek into Sam's hand, tears rolling down his cheeks.

"I think you have your answer, Sam. What's it going to be. Both staying, or are you leaving. I don't have all day."

"Dean, don't do this, they won't let us be together here....they'll..." Sam took in a shuddering breath, "they'll take you way from me and I don't want that - I want you..." Sam slammed his mouth over his brother's again, tears and saliva mingling together as the kiss deepened and slowed. Sam pulled back enough to whisper, "I _want_ you Dean, always have, I just...I just didn't ...." he slid his cheek across his brother's and whispered into his ear, "didn't want you to hate me...think I was sick...broken. I want you..." he nipped Dean's neck and licked the pain away. "Please, please, come back with me....let me....love you." Sam's voice was thick, broken, his body aching with need, desire, and fear.

"He's lying, you know he is," Meg said, moving closer.

Lies. Truths. Dean could hardly sort through them. But his brother's mouth against his, that was real. His brother's strong arms around him, that was real. His brother's arousal, pressing into his belly. That too was real. And his words, his recriminations, his guilt... so familiar, an echo of what was going on in his own mind. Dean started to nod.

"You are going to damn him." Meg touched Dean's shoulder. "Is that what you want?"

"I want. YOU." Dean said, clear as a bell, eyes locked with Sam's, fingers kneading his brother's sides as he clung to him, afraid to lose him again.

Sam closed his eyes and clung to his brother. "You lose Meg. Dean's mine...you forfeit his _soul_."


	2. Chapter 2

They fell suddenly, both of them rolling out of habit. Dean cried out in pain as Sam's elbow struck him hard in the rib, and then they were laying there, on a bed. He didn't know where, just that it wasn't hell. And that Sam was on top of him.

Dean looked up at him, unsure, licking his lips. His body still wanted what had been promised, but his heart was breaking at the prospect of making Sam do something... something like this. "I..." His voice was hoarse, barely audible.

For the first time in his twenty-four hours of begging and pleading Sam let himself go, he collapsed down on Dean's warm body, head falling into the crook of his brother's neck.

Turning his face toward Sam's, he pressed his cheek against the side of Sam's face, slowly moving his arms, circling his waist, holding him. Dean stayed like that for a while, soaking in Sam's heat, his scent, the comfort of his nearness... his human touch. "This... it's real?" Please... please be real... please don't be taken away from me. Not again.

Sam took a deep breath and summoned enough energy to slide off Dean's body, still lying half across him. Finally, a smile started to twitch at the corner of Sam's mouth; they'd made it. "I'm real, you're real," he leaned forward and kissed the corner of Dean's mouth, "this is real." His fingers trailed over his brother's face. "I'll be right back...don't go anywhere." He rolled over with a groan and stood up, heading over to the bathroom. Returning a few moments later with a warm, damp cloth, he lay down again on his side as close to Dean as he could get. Wiping the cloth slowly over his brother's face he wiped away some of hell's grime and dirt; kissing each patch of battered clean skin that appeared.

He'd only barely held in a sob when Sam left him. Dean's eyes had tracked him to the other room, and he hadn't dared to take even a single breath. Not until Sam was back and taking care of him. He reached out, hanging onto Sam's belt, afraid that he'd leave again, even as he took care of him, better than anyone ever had. He wished he could tell him the things in his heart, but he was too moved, his throat still hurt and his mind wasn't as quick as it used to be. His lips parted, he managed to touch them to Sam's cheek the next time Sam leaned in.

Sam slid the cloth down his brother's neck, squeezing gently, rubbing the cuts and bruises, cleaning away the grime and leaving kisses in its place. "See?" he asked gruffly, "real." The cloth moved over Dean's chest, Sam's hand spread wide, fingers rubbing over the lines of his brother's body. Sam pushed the cloth down over Dean's stomach, his fingers sliding under the waistband of his brother's jeans, "real," he whispered as he reached up to claim Dean's mouth in a kiss.

With each announcement of "real" and each touch, each whisper, Dean believed Sam just a little bit more. When scorching heat closed around his shaft, his brother's hand, Dean moaned and raised himself up, meeting Sam's mouth half way. He was hungry, so hungry for Sam, he pawed at his back, arching up under his touch. "Real," he repeated, sucking Sam's tongue into his mouth, burning up as their tongues tangled and danced.

His hands moved to the hem of Sam's shirt, he started to lift the material up, cautious, but hopeful... needy but trying to keep some semblance of control. "Need you... need you so much, Sam. Thought about you... so... so much." Even before his brother completely got the shirt over his head, Dean welded his mouth to Sam's. Tasting him, really tasting him. Clinging to him, body and soul, looking for the salvation he'd dreamt about.

Sam could barely breathe, he struggled against the shirt over his eyes, then let himself sink back into his brother's kiss. Even without his eyes, Sam could tell Dean anywhere; the small sounds he made were rumbling against his chest, the smell of Dean was all around him even tainted a little still by the scent of hell, scarred strong hands on the sensitive skin of Sam's back, pulling and tugging. Growling, Sam pulled back and got his shirt off, tossing it across the room. "Need you... too ...Dean," he moaned out between kisses, lips and mouth and tongue sliding down over his brother's jaw, down his neck and over his collar bone. He pressed Dean down into the bed, letting all his weight fall on his older brother, and ground his hard length into his brother's crotch. "Real is... feels...pretty good, Dean." He moaned and captured Dean's mouth again, sucking on his bottom lip hungrily, greedily, wanting everything.

"Yes... good," Dean managed between groans and kisses. Sam's hands were everywhere on him, and they were very real. His body hard, also real. His mouth just as hungry, just as desperate, just as needy as Dean's. Any space between them was too much space. He wrapped his legs around Sam, locking his ankles at the small of his back and dragging him down. The slide of Sam's body against his made old wounds hurt, but to Dean even the pain was erotic. Raising his hips, he ground himself against his brother, making a sound as throbbing heat shot through him. "So long... so long since I felt anything, and now you. You Sammy."

As Dean's legs tightened around him, Sam's hips snapped forward of their own accord and he gasped out his brother's name. Burying his face in Dean's neck he dragged his lips over the bruised flesh, licking along a raised rope burn; his heart clenched again at the hints of Dean's torture and pain. "God...couldn't ... " Sam whispered against his brother's shoulder, "couldn't be without you." Sam's hips rolled down into Dean, hard and crushing, his desire reared up in him, hidden for so long and suddenly free. Teeth nipping at Dean's skin, tongue licking away the pain Sam murmured his brother's name over and over, his own prayer, his own salvation.

"Yes, yes," Dean whispered as Sam manhandled him completely. His fingers dug into Sam's shoulder, then moved lower, to his ass. There was no subtlety in the way Dean squeezed and groped him, moving his hand under his ass, cupping him from behind, moaning at the first feel he'd copped of his brother. Almost frantic, he released his legs, and pushed his hands between them, trying to undo his jeans.

Sam kneeled back, yanking Dean down towards him, stilling his brother's desperate hands with his own. He took a few deep breaths then popped the button on his brother's jeans, pulled the zipper down and tugged them off. They were tangled for a few moments, Dean's feet, the jeans, Sam's hands, arms and then the jeans were flying across the room. Eyes roaming over the expanse of Dean's flesh Sam felt a shudder run through his body. Even beaten, and bruised Dean's body was gorgeous. Sure, he'd glimpsed his brother before; in and out of the shower, changing, but this ... this was different. Sam settled his large hands on Dean's thighs and squeezed hard, "fuck...Dean..." he choked out "Want you so much." Eyes fixed on his brother's Sam leaned forward and licked Dean's rigid shaft from base to tip.

When Sam stared down at his naked body, a frisson of fear ran though Dean... like this was the moment of truth. If his brother was going to change his mind, this would be the moment. Vulnerable, scared and feeling like he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff, he almost jackknifed up.

Then Sam's hard hands were on him again, so strong, his grip on his thigh so tight, so sure, just like Dean needed it to be. Their eyes locked, and then Dean was bucking his hips up. "Oh God... Sam," he groaned as white hot heat spread through his system at the first drag of Sam's wet tongue along his hard needy flesh. "Real," he said in a shaky, thick voice, one hand tangling and fisting around the sheets, the other finding Sam's shoulder, digging in.

Again and again, Sam's tongue swept over his cock and left Dean writhing. He'd gone from self imposed sensory deprivation to overload and he was shaking and shuddering, making sounds that were unfamiliar to his own ears. He thought he was going to go mad, he started to lift up again, but Sam was holding him down, making him wait, making him groan and plead. "Need, please... please Sam, now... need... suck me," he all but shouted as his desperation grew.

Jesus, seeing Dean come apart, give in, unwind was beautiful and amazing and Sam cock jolted inside the confines of his jeans with every word that fell from his brother's lips. His arms were shaking so badly he could barely hold himself up so he fell down beside Dean, his strong thigh holding his brother's legs down, pressed into the mattress. He shushed his brother quietly as he lapped at the underside of his shaft, sucking the feverishly hot skin into his mouth, dragging his teeth along the sensitive flesh. Tastes like Dean, spicy, salty, earthy, so good and Jesus Sam could come just sucking his brother off, listening to him beg and whimper.

Hollowing his cheeks Sam sucked long and hard, sliding his stinging lips down his brother's cock, rolling his tongue around it, learning the texture, the taste; he pulled back a little, took a deep breath then swallowed Dean down and buried his nose in the rough curls at the base of his cock. Dean's scent surrounded him, musk and sweat mingled with the sickening scent of hell that still tainted everything. Sam moaned deep in his throat pulsing his tongue against his brother hard cock, fingers digging into his bruised thighs, drawing more of those sounds and pleas from his brother's swollen lips.

His own desperation growing, Sam's hand grasped the base of Dean's shaft and squeezed as his head dropped down once more filling his mouth and throat with Dean. So...fuckin' perfect Twisting, sliding, slick and wet he moved off rhythm never letting Dean know what to expect; Sam moaned, gasping for breath his hips snapping forward against Dean's leg.

It was like being fucking blindfolded all over again. Dean would expect Sam to take him in his mouth, and would be licked instead. He'd think Sam was gonna suck his balls, and suddenly he was squeezed and jacked for a few strokes, crying out his pleasure, and it all changed again. A gentle touch would be replaced with a bruising one, making him shout through gritted teeth. When he thrashed, Sam would find a way to stop him. When he held still, Sam would ratchet up the heat somehow, as if he wanted him to react... leaving Dean in a tangled mess of lust, need and confusion.

"D...driving me crazy," he bit out, struggling, almost fighting Sam as he tried to lift his legs and get them over Sam's shoulders, to be able to pull him closer. "Need you. Please...aw fuck... Sam."

Sam rolled to the side suddenly, gasping for air, and shot up off the bed. With shaking hands he undid the button and zipper on this pants, shoving them down roughly. He toed his boots off quickly and tried to kick his feet loose, staring at Dean, watching that flushed skin, the heaving chest and his lust-blown pupils in wild eyes - Fuck just as he managed to escape the denim he got tangled and almost fell. Growling out his frustration he righted himself and yanked his boxers off; he turned and pulled the nightstand drawer open so fast it came right out in his hand falling on the floor and scattering its contents. Bending over, Sam grabbed a small bottle of lube his mind running over the nameless faces of women he'd brought back to the room, all over him; too drunk to care if they were ready when he slammed into them trying to forget. He fell back onto the bed again, panting, open mouth going almost automatically to Dean's nipple. He bit down hard, gasping for air around Dean's abused, teased flesh; his world tilted a little as his desire, almost panic and lack of oxygen caught up with him. Reaching out he grabbed the lube off the bed and squeezed some out, in his palm, cold and messy, wet on him, on his brother's hip, on the bed.

The sharp pain had Dean arching practically off the mattress and sent renewed desire pumping through his veins. He hissed out his pleasure, clawing at Sam's back, needing, wanting his weight over him, reminding him how real this was... that he wasn't stuck in fucking hell anymore, that he had his brother back. His head jerked back as the cool liquid hit him, and yet he tried to hold onto Sam, trying to kiss him... to suck his tongue in his mouth. "Please!"

Shoving Dean's shoulder away from him, Sam wrestled with his brother until he was lying face down on the mattress, pinned by Sam's weight, writhing and struggling. "Fuck, Dean..." Sam bit down hard on Dean's shoulder, then kissed a trail over his brother's broad shoulder blade, pressing his tongue against the healing bruises. He shifted his hip sideways and reached down grabbing his brother's firm ass, curling his strong fingers into the muscle as he slid his free arm under Dean's chest. He shifted up, fingers sliding over the crack of Dean's ass, hot wet lips dragging over Dean's ear.

Dean fought mostly because it made him feel alive, it made Sam touch him the way he needed right now. He tensed and groaned into the pillow, then let his air out as Sam soothed the bite with warm wet kisses and licks. It was like Sam was taking back everything they did to him, every cut, ever tear, every bruise, he was making it his. Dean would rather wear his brother marks than hells, any day. "Anghhh," he groaned as Sam's fingers ran over his hole, teasing, worrying him. He tried to lift up to meet his fingers, to make him give him what he wanted right here, right now.

"Whatcha want, Dean?" He tightened his hold and slipped two slick fingers into his brother's tight hole, feeling the muscles give and then grasp. Sam's cock jumped, and he ground against his brother's ass, groaning in Dean's ear. "What?" he growled, "say it, what do you ...." He moaned as he ground against Dean's ass, "want?" His long fingers moved slowly, inside Dean, twisting, turning, pulling out again.

Dean gave a hoarse cry as Sam's fingers slipped past the tight ring of muscle at his hole. He shuddered as those long fingers spread the lube, sliding in and out, "no! Goddamit," he tried to turn to look at his brother when he took his finger away, but even that was denied him. Sam's face over his ear kept him from turning. "You... want you... fuck, Sam, come on," he moved almost violently. On the verge of a sob, he gave in. "I want your cock up my ass, all the way. Want you inside me, around me. Want you to fuck me... FUCK ME!"

Heart lurching in his chest, Sam kissed Dean's neck, his cheek, ran his tongue over his ear, anywhere he could reach he laid his open mouth, his tongue or his teeth. His chest ached, full of love for the broken man in his arms and he felt his eyes prickling with tears once more even as he slid his hand down to grab his own cock. "I got you back from them," he sighed against his brother's ear as he lined up the head of his weeping shaft and pushed in, hard, without mercy, without holding back - Just like he knew Dean wanted. Sam wanted Dean so much, every part of him ached and the moment he was swallowed up by Dean's silky warmth he cried out, shuddering and folding over his brother's back.

"Sonova--" Dean's face smashed into his forearms as Sam slammed into him, splitting him open in one thrust. Tears streamed from his eyes, his teeth clenching as he fought to adjust. His baby brother was fucking big, and strong, and hard... and he could feel him so deep... so real, there was no question in his mind, this was real. He licked his lips and clenched his muscles around Sam. "Now... fuck me... take me... take me Sam," he tried to nudge himself back, releasing his breath when his brother did what he begged for, and more.

There was no rhythm only desperation and need, Sam wanted every inch of his brother back, every wound, every bruise, each cut and scab and scrape. His arm tightened around Dean's stomach for a few moments, drawing him close; then his hips fell into a rhythm and he hooked his leg back over Dean's. "Wanted you..." He was shaking, every muscle in his body quivering and he could feel Dean's body moving and twitching against him, pushing back against Sam, wanting more. It was shocking and hot and Sam's mind had long since stopped trying to make sense of anything and simply focused on I got him back.

"Got me... got me..." Dean answered, his entire body being flung forward with every hard thrust of his brother's hips. Every jarring slide of Sam's leg or knee against his own affirmed he was alive, every pain from Sam digging his chin into his shoulder, or his fingers biting into him, every groan Sam drew out of him, jacking him off so roughly... it brought him alive, a little at a time, it brought him alive. He started to raise himself up, fucking back into Sam, insisting that his brother keep the punishing pace. He threw his head back, kissing Sam's jaw, biting his earlobe. "Oh God... oh God ... fuck..."

The bed was banging into the wall. Dean thought he felt plaster falling, and didn't care. He clenched and clenched around Sam, grunting with pleasure and pain as he was fucked within an inch of his life... his life.

Sam felt his pleasure starting to wash over him, the feeling like tendrils of cold starting low in his balls, tightening, spreading out. But, he couldn't stop, wouldn't stop; his hand was still holding Dean's cock, letting his brother thrust into his rough palm both of them panting, moaning and grasping at each other.

"Don't stop... please, more... more," Dean demanded, even as scorching heat made its way low to his belly, pooling, the pressure building. "Oh my God, Sam..." His words became unintelligible, just sounds, his moans, Sam’s, the slamming of the bed, the slapping of skin... a symphony with one meaning, his brother had brought him home. This was home.

He felt Sam's leg move higher, up over his hip, and then they were fucking like they both saw the finishing line. "Yes... gonna come, Sam... Sam!" His back stiffened, his balls tightened, he threw his head back and shouted his brother's name, exploding so fucking hard all thoughts, his entire past, hell... all of it was blown away... scattered to the winds. Sam and him, that's all there was, just them.

Sam couldn't have held himself together much longer anyway - but fuck the feeling of Dean's ass clenching so tight around him, the feel of his brother's hot come shooting over his hand, it all flooded over Sam and he could feel his orgasm start deep within his body. And the thing that sent him over the edge? The way his name sounded when Dean said it; voice thick with lust and tears and it was like a command. Sam's back arched, he came long and hard, his cock pulsing and twitching in his brother's dark warmth; so much, so good, he thought his heart was exploding in his chest. The rest of his strength, what little he had left went into holding onto to Dean like he was the last thing in the world worth having...and he was.

His brother's cock was still lodged inside him, and Sam was all around him, just like he wanted, just like the image he'd focused on when he'd erased himself from existence and escaped their clutches. Was it ironic, that the same image was what brought him back?

Dean reached back, touching, just touching Sam, his ass and thigh, which was all he could reach. "I'm home, Sammy." Tears started to fall from his eyes. His shoulders shook, but he was smiling and stroking Sam, breathing in their combined scent. "You brought me home. I'm home."

It took a while before Sam realized he was sobbing, then he was pulling out of Dean , hissing out a breath and scrabbling over his brother's body to pull him into his arms. He buried his face in Dean's shoulder and cried and didn't give a shit if dean would tease him about it; hell, the fact that Dean would be there too - to never let Sam live it down was the best thing he'd felt in months. His hands wouldn't settle, they still moved over Dean's body, his side, his hips, thighs, everywhere; eventually the movements started to slow though and for the first time and it felt more gentle and less desperate.

Dean tasted tears and blood and Sam. His fingers threaded through is brother's hair, he moved his head to one side and the other as they kissed, controlling the kiss. His thumbs brushed away Sam's tears, he started to comfort him, to tell him not to cry, to tell him this was real, that he was here, that he'd never leave again. Then somehow, he went from being that shell Sam had found in hell, to being his older brother again. "Don't cry... no more tears Sammy. I'm gonna shower you now, gonna wash you. And I'm gonna tell you a story, about this guy who fell for his brother and didn't know what to do. He thought nothing worse could happen. He thought hell would be better than his brother knowing. And then he found out he was wrong. Come." He got up slowly, his body protesting, hurting so good in places hell hadn't ever touched. "Come Sam... it's time for me to bring you home.

 

THE END


End file.
